This is currently set to be a (smutty) 3-shot but there could be more. I have to focus on my other two writings that are nowhere near finished and have a fan base begging me to write more. In the meantime, enjoy my momentary distraction with the beautiful specimen that is T'Challa.
My Home
Chapter One: "It's a Man"
It was a pretty normal day for Shani. She didn't have many customers in the office, it was hot and she was sweaty, and oil was covering her from head to toe. If she finished the transmission on the Toyota sitting on her shop lift then she could probably clean up early and head home. She wanted to work on her new laptop and add extra encryption to her home network anyway.
As usual she was blaring music from her grandfather's record player, dancing around the shop as she picked up the oil and equipment that she needed. The shop garage door was open to let in what little breeze there was. It was uncharacteristically quiet outside but she wasn't going to complain—Vienna was the largest city in Austria and it was almost worse than Chicago on a bad day.
Sometimes she missed her small, American hometown, but then she looked around and realized how amazing her life was. She was a well-respected business owner, had a great clientele, and never had to scrape together money every month to get by. Comparing that to her life in America made it seem like an easy choice.
She still missed her family, though.
Shani checked her security monitors before scanning the transmission of the Toyota by waving her hand in front of it. It had higher mileage—about one-hundred-and-fifty thousand miles total. The owner had complained about the car not shifting properly. If Shani remembered correctly (and she always did), then that meant that the throttle position sensor was out of adjustment or a shift solenoid needed to be replaced. Another analysis of the engine in her brain told her that only one solenoid needed replaced whereas some transmissions required all of them to be replaced as an assembly.
She checked the security monitors again, blinking a few times to shift through them in her line of sight. When they were all clear she set to taking the engine apart with her mind.
Mechanics had always been her forte. Ever since she was small, she'd been able to find the weaknesses in anything that needed to be put together. It didn't necessarily have to use electricity (although she was stronger with electronics) but she could find out how to take it apart in seconds. It was like having the blueprints in her brain without ever seeing it. She waved a hand across the item in question and she knew how it worked. She knew how to fix it if it were broken…and she knew how to break it, too.
She'd always had to be careful. That was why every few seconds she checked her dozens of security cameras stationed around her building. Her business was located between the Vienna International Centre and the Vienna International Airport so there were many people who passed through, although the international tourists didn't usually need vehicular assistance. Anyone could walk in any second and see her levitating mechanical parts or flipping through television channels by blinking.
Shani's mother had relocated them dozens of times over the years. It was always Shani's fault—an accident here, an angry tantrum there…somehow she was always found out. Now, though, it was Shani's problem if she were found out. That was why it was easiest just to pose as a mechanic. No one would look twice since it was her job to use her power to fix people's vehicles. It wasn't fancy and flashy like she'd always hoped but it put food on the table.
One of her dreams had been to work for Stark Industries. Tony Stark used electronics and mechanics to make amazing suits and green energy apparatuses. Shani wanted to be able to help the world like that but she knew that if someone found out about her powers…they would be used for evil. Or she'd be cut open and studied like a lab rat. Neither one was okay.
Shani checked the cameras again and started putting the transmission back together. Sometimes her power felt like cheating—she hadn't gone to college and yet she could engineer almost anything. She hadn't gone to trade school and yet she was the best mechanic in Vienna. It was almost a fair trade for how her powers were viewed by the world.
After the "enhanced" of the world started revealing themselves, she'd almost done the same. But then the attacks had happened. "Enhanced" or inhumans as some called them were being persecuted and attacked all over the world. She wasn't sure what she was called—most of the inhumans she'd heard about had been created, not born. She'd had her powers since before she could remember.
Once the Toyota was pulled off the lift and parked back where it was supposed to be, Shani checked the cameras one more time and gave a little leap of joy when the front office was empty. She ran to the front door, locked it, and turned the sign from "open" to "closed." Then she grabbed a broom, turned up the record player, and started cleaning and dancing around the shop without a care in the world.
"Girls! Girls! Watch out, watch out. There's a two-legged animal runnin' about. If it smokes a great big cigar, and it hangs around at a bar; if it tells the biggest lies, wears the loudest ties…it's a man!"
Getting out early meant that she could actually be a twenty-something for once in her life. It meant that she could wipe all (or most) of the oil and grease from her clothes and go grab a drink at one of the local bars. She could work on her vehicle or upgrade her computer systems. She was on call all the time, of course, but that didn't mean that she couldn't have some fun!
"If it acts just like a cross-patch, has a face with whiskers that scratch…if it's stubborn as can be, mean and ornery, it's a man! If it walks, if it talks, if its habits are just a little bit peculiar…if it brags and tries to make you think it's wonderful, be on the lookout—don't let it fool ya!"
Shani blinked through her cameras out of habit and was surprised to see a group of expensive black cars parked outside the front of her garage. They hadn't been there before. She panicked only momentarily—they might not have been after her. They could have just broken down.
"But if it makes the moon up high more than just a light in the sky, if it kisses you when you find you like it too, grab it! It's a man!"
Shani took a deep breath and tried to brush the grease from her clothes. That failed of course but she tried anyway. One of the cars was a 2016 Jaguar F-Type, loaded to the wazoo with every extra feature possible. She was pretty sure that everything was bulletproof and she counted at least a dozen guns between the three vehicles. The other two were standard Jaguar SUV's, still loaded with every possible amenity and more weapons, tinted windows, and bullet-proof exteriors.
They aren't after me, she repeated over and over in her head, studying the scene as she ventured outside. There were five men and a woman standing around the F-Type, obviously looking at the flat tire and torn brake line. Shani didn't even need to be close to feel the strain that the uneven axis put on the vehicle and the emptying of the brake fluid. The men were all in expensive suits and the woman looked like an MMA fighter. Three men and the woman had guns on them while others were in the vehicle.
The sun was setting so she blinked a few times to turn off her security and get rid of one more thing to think about. (She thought she was pretty funny when she talked about her brain like it was processing power and RAM. Her mother would scowl and hit her over the head.) She armed her security system just in case these people were there to take her away for good.
"Hello," Shani said, wiping her hands on an old rag as she walked up to them, "you look like you might need some help." They obviously weren't from Austria so she hoped that they spoke English. Most tourists spoke at least some English.
"Stay where you are!" the woman shouted menacingly, advancing along with three men at her back.
Shani gave out a small, terrified squeak and raised her hands in surrender. She must've looked a fright, her kinky hair in a messy bun on the top of her head and oil covering her makeupless features. Her clothing consisted of a dirty black t-shirt under a pair of short overalls. She hated having her legs constricted while she worked. She was also barefoot which most people called her crazy for but she would know if she were about to step on something. She always knew where everything was in her shop.
The woman was muscular and much, much taller than Shani's five-foot-three frame. She towered over the mechanic and checked her for weapons and dangers to the two men who still stood by the cars.
"Dora," the younger of the two men by the car said, stepping around the car to also advance. Shani was becoming on edge by getting surrounded. "Let the young woman be. She is obviously a mechanic." The scary woman stepped away from Shani but was still glaring, as if Shani were a threat somehow!
The man came closer, a friendly smile on his handsome face. Very handsome, actually. To the point that Shani flushed at his perfectly-white smile and perfectly-scruffy face. Topped off with a suit that was worth more than Shani's whole building, she couldn't help but compare them and fidgeted with the hem of her overall shorts. "I apologize, she is supposed to be wary of strangers. Who are you, child?"
Shani wanted to frown at his use of 'child' to describe her but was still too on edge to properly show emotions. "Shani, sir. I saw that you were having car problems and thought I'd come offer my professional services."
"Normally we could fix this on our own," he said with a devastatingly handsome smirk, "but we are not from around here and we do not seem to have a spare tire on the vehicle. Could I bother you for your assistance?"
He was so polite that it hurt. Most people from countries outside of the US were overly blunt or rude. Sometimes Shani was sick of it and sometimes she was thankful for it. At that moment, she was in between—his attractiveness mixed with his polite demeanor flustered her and made her nervous. "Of course. If you could have your men push your car into my garage, I'll put it up on a lift and have it fixed right up."
The other man who'd stayed off to the side—older, obviously related to the handsome one—frowned slightly. The two started talking in their language as Shani helped the men pilot the car onto the first lift in her garage. The other lift held a specialty Porsche that was waiting for some welding work underneath and wouldn't get done until the next morning.
"You're welcome to wait in the front office," Shani suggested to the obvious body guards. They hadn't seemed to hear and instead each took a corner, the woman stepping outside to stand watch. The two VIP's walked in as Shani used an electric wrench to take the lug nuts off the tire before pulling it off. She was used to lifting heavy objects throughout the day (although she usually used her powers) so it was easy to set it to the side and peer up into the wheelbase to check for other damage.
She knew that the brake line was ruined. Whatever they'd run over had gone through the braided steel hose on the passenger side brakes and the tire, too. From what she could tell as she ran her hands over axle, it seemed to have been done accidentally. Most newer cars didn't care for the old cobblestone roads and the glass and debris that built up. There was nothing else wrong with the car, thank goodness, but she was glad they had stopped when they had.
She wiped her hands on her coveralls and turned to look at the two men standing in her shop. The older one looked a little disgusted but the younger one was looking around with interest in his kind chocolate eyes.
"You're lucky you stopped when you did," she said as she went to the back to grab the new tire they needed and a new hose to replace the damaged one. That and a 14mm socket wrench would finish off the deed. "Not only did you have a flat tire but the brake line was damaged too. I'll replace the line, bleed the brakes, put in some more fluid, and even patch up your old tire so you can use it as a spare. Shouldn't take me more than twenty minutes."
"We are in your debt," the young man said, even giving her a bit of a bow. Shandi flushed and went about her work, nervously checking her powers to make sure she wasn't breaking anything without meaning to. It happened sometimes when she was in a big crowd of people…or scared out of her mind.
The woman and the old man went into the waiting room at some point. One of the guards went to guard the locked front door, leaving the young man and two guards in her shop. He was walking around, checking things out while she attached the new hose to the brake caliper.
"You are American?" the man asked, standing almost too close to her all of a sudden. He smelled tropical in a musky way.
Shani almost dropped her socket wrench in surprise. She was good with machines, not people, and had almost no understanding of human interaction or personal space (meaning that she didn't like people getting into her bubble.) There was a waiting room for a reason. "Y-yes," she stuttered, resuming her work. Normally it was mindless and she did it without thinking—this man being there made her have to triple check her own work! "Is it that obvious?"
"You spoke in English to us rather than German," he said with a smile, "and your accent is unmistakable."
Reattaching the brackets would usually only take seconds. It took her twenty to put them back on. "Yes, well, I assumed you weren't from here and most tourists know English. What brings you to Austria, friend?"
He seemed to hesitate for a moment. Obviously he was someone important or he wouldn't be driving a fleet of tanks with bodyguards at every turn. "Business conference. And what brings you here?"
People asked her that all the time. She loved America, she truly did, but it was so difficult to hide who she was there. In Austria she was more relaxed and a relaxed Shani was a safe and undiscovered Shani. This man was the opposite of Austria. He put her on edge in a good way that was also bad…she couldn't explain it. He was taking up ninety percent of her RAM and it frustrated her.
"Came for school, ran out of money. Decided to stay. Eventually saved up enough to open my own shop and I never thought about going back." It was close enough to the truth. She'd finished secondary schooling in France about ten years ago and had had to move twice since then. Her mother had moved back to the States a long time ago. "It's…peaceful here."
"You should see Wakanda," he sighed, leaning casually up against one of the metal beams keeping the ceiling from falling in. He looked good enough to eat, his hands in his pockets and that smirk on his full lips. "It is a beautiful country. Wild and untamed but so full of potential."
Where the hell is Wakanda? she wondered, absent-mindedly checking out his chest as she started the process to bleed the brakes. Also…Was that last comment made towards me? No, of course not. This man is obviously some kind of visiting dignitary. He doesn't want anything to do with a dirty mechanic. "Sounds beautiful," she sighed, blushing and shaking her head to concentrate on her task. Next up was fitting the wheel with the correct tire.
Without even looking, she knew exactly what size tire and brand she needed for the car. "You seem very adept with your work," the man commented, his very observant eyes following her everywhere around the shop.
Shit. Had she done something wrong? Most mechanics had to look things up. Shit! "Uh, a lot of fancy cars come through this way to get to the Vienna International Centre. You'd be surprised how many of them can't take an old cobblestone road."
He hummed under his breath in approval, always watching. His two bodyguards had disappeared somewhere and it made her nervous to be alone with him. "And your computer system appears to be very advanced."
Shit. She'd left the back shop door open so all of her security towers and servers were there for public viewing. She closed it as soon as he came close. "I dabble in electronics on the side?" It came out as a question and she cursed her inability to lie.
The same approving hum followed her as she rolled the correct tire over to the very beautiful vehicle. She fit it to the rim and lifted it without issue.
"Y'know, I never caught your name," she said over her shoulder as she hand-tightened the lug nuts first. She loved the doing manual labor. It made her feel like she was getting something accomplished. Every so often she wouldn't use her powers just to feel metal under her hands.
"T'Challa," he said in that deep, accented voice of his that made her knees a little too weak. She wasn't sure what his accent was or where Wakanda was but she definitely wanted to move there next if she had to up and run in the next few years. "Again, I thank you for your help, Shandi. What must I do to repay you?"
Somehow it came out. She couldn't stop it. It was like someone had hijacked her body and put the words there themselves. "Buy me a drink?" She was so shocked that she threw her hand over her mouth to stop from embarrassing herself further.
He seemed to find her shock amusing because he laughed openly. It wasn't mocking, it was genuinely happy. As she waited for him to say something she almost took it back. She turned her head and went back to putting his car back together. His thumb on her chin made her focus on him again, though. The pad of his thumb was rough as he pinched her chin, smiling slyly and wiping what must have been grease from her face. He looked at her like a predator would look at its prey. "Yes, I think I would like that."